Cleveland has trees
by alternatereality42
Summary: Suckiest title EVER, I know! Summary in my profile.
**A/N: Disclaimer and description posted in my profile, so take a look at that! Dialogue taken from myths dot com. Italics means thoughts, vvv means change point of view.**

Buffy had just gotten home from a long night's slayage, when she saw a certain vampire leaning against her tree, in her new yard. Her old house, along with MANY other houses, had been destroyed in Sunnydale.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked. Stammering, Spike started to speak, but Buffy interrupted him. "Five words or less."

 **vvv**

 _Bloody hell. No "Nice to see you", no "I missed you", not even "I thought you were dead." Just "What are you doing here?" Bloody unbelievable, 's what it is. Oh. Right. This is the part where I make a bloody fool of myself. 'You have stupid hair.' What the hell was I bloody thinking?_

"Out. For a. Walk." Spike tried to resist, but he'd followed the dialogue so far. _Besides, she bloody well deserves it._ "Bitch."

 **vvv**

"Out for a walk at night by my house. No one has time for this, William." As the last word was spoken, she wondered if that was even William, aka Spike. _Of course it isn't, you idiot. You can't reanimate a pile of dust that was scattered in the explosion that fomerly undusted vampire caused. 'He' is the First._

 **"** On your merry way, then. You know, contrary to one's self-involved world-view, your house happens to be directly between parts... and... other parts... of this town. And I would pass by in the day, but I feel I'm outgrowing my whole 'burst into flame' phase."

 _If you haven't, I'll make you. If you are really him._ "Fine. Keep going, I cut you a break."

 **vvv**

"Oh, yeah. Okay, let me guess ... you won't kill me? Wooo ... the whole crowd-pleasing threats-and-swagger routine. How stunningly original. You know, I'm just passing through. Satisfied? You know, I really hope so, because god knows you need some satisfaction in life besides shagging the Immortal, and I never really liked you anyway and ... and ... you have stupid hair." _I said that AGAIN? Please, don't let her ask how I knew about the Immortal._

 **vvv**

 _That's Spike. A ghost of Spike, probably, but still Spike. Only he would just automatically assume I was... 'shagging'... the Immortal. But he clearly didn't see me clearly, because THAT WASN'T ME. He would have recognized that it wasn't me if there were actual conversations._ "Wow. You... you thought..." Buffy doubled over, overcome by laughter for a few seconds. "You actually thought that was me?"

"It wasn't?"

"Duh! Of course not! You really didn't believe me, did you. But now that you're here..." Buffy bit her lip, embarrassing herself while testing Spike's coporealness. "There's this one tallish branch that I can't reach, but I was wondering if you could..."

"What, prune it or something? You think I'm daft?"

 _Damn it!_ "Why would you think I think you're stupid?"

"Because you're obviously testing my corporealness. Look, you could ask me to break a twig or something."

"Okay."

"Great."

"So will you?"

 **vvv**

"What, break a bloody twig? Sure thing, luv," Spike said, insulted. _She thinks I'm the First, or a ghost. And still no 'Glad to see you'?_ He broke a twig.

Before he knew it, he was being wrapped in a Slayer-strength bear hug. What was there to do besides return it? _Guess that counts as a hello then._

But quickly, the hug turned sour, as Spike got slapped across the face. It stung, but not nearly as much as the hurt look on Buffy's face.

"How long have you been back?"

"What?"

"You heard me. For exactly how long have you been not dust, Spike? It's long past 147 days."

"You mean undusted, corporeal, not slipping into hell, and able to leave Wolfram and Hart?"

 **vvv**

 _He was trapped inside Wolfram and Hart? More importantly, he was SLIPPING INTO HELL and NOBODY thought I deserved to know? Well, I get Angel not telling me. But did he order everybody to not tell me? So like Angel, actually, I'm not surprised. What a jerk._

"Yes."

"About three months, nineteen days after Sunnydale."

"You didn't think I deserved to know? You know what... Yes."

 **vvv**

 _What the bloody hell?_ "Yes... what?"

 **vvv**

 _Your last words to me. Duh! 'No you don't, but thanks for saying it._ "Yes, I do, and you're welcome." She went inside, slamming the door.

 **vvv**

 _I don't get it. I said nothing to that daft bint that could plausibly lead... Oh. That. That thing I said that could possibly, but not plausibly, lead to that. Well, great. Peaches lied, and I've nowhere to stay for sunlight. Better go scouting. Who knows, maybe she'll call me back, as she is so obviously watching me from her window right now._ He started to leave, stopped only by the voice emitting from her window.

"Where are you going?" Buffy asked.

Spike looked up. "About two or so minutes to dawn, and like I said, I've outgrown the whole 'burst into flame' phase.

"You better have." She paused for a few seconds, then, when he made no attempt to move, she broke the tension. "What are you waiting for? Come on in already. Two minutes isn't nearly enough time to make it even close to the nearest shelter, even with vamp superspeed."

"Okay." Spike crossed the lawn, hands in pockets. He opened the door, tried to lean against the threshold, and, finding Buffy's invite worked even from a short distance away, he fell sideways onto the carpet.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked as she rushed over to help him up. "No sprains, dislocations, fractures, or overall achyness?"

"You'd make a terrible doctor, Buffy," Spike said, trying to stand up and wincing when he couldn't. "Just overall achyness in my leg. Maybe a hairline fracture?"

Buffy helped him up, guiding his arm around her shoulders for support. "This couch actually folds out to be a bed, so it's way better than the comfy chair."

"That's good," Spike said, distractedly. _She's making me sleep on the couch?_ _Not that I haven't before, but still. Course, it might just be because of the stairs..._ He winced as his leg bumped the first step of the stairs, morphing into vamp face and biting his lip to keep from crying out. He'd been hopping on his good leg, so he figured his injury was probably more extreme than a hairline fracture. _Yeah, probably a good idea to stay off the stairs. What is she doing?_

"Guess what? I get the couch."

"Buffy, love, you don't have to..." His protests were cut off as his leg bumped another stair. This time he couldn't hold back the audible hiss.

"Change of plans. You get the downstairs couch until you can take stairs. _Then_ I get the couch."

"Fair..." Spike could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling the last word before passing out.

 **vvv**

"Great. Now what? Spike has more medical experience than I do." She looked up at the sky, hoping it would hold answers. "At least I should set it while he's already unconscious. Then I'll wait." She proceeded to do just that, aligning his leg bone where it felt out of place, which was surprisingly nowhere- except, there was this huge slash across his leg, and it was bleeding heavily. As heavily as it could be bleeding for a vampire anyway. _So that's why he looked so pale. And I couldn't see the blood through the thick black denim of his jeans. Who or what did this to him? Whatever it was, they should consider themself dead._ Buffy touched the aforementioned what looked like a knife slash on his upper thigh. _How was he even walking? He needs blood._ Buffy left the room briefly to head into the kitchen. _He's probably starved. I'll make him some blood. Do we have any burba weed?_ She went into the spices cabinet, rummaging around briefly until she found a jar. Willow had left it there a couple of days ago, when she was making a protection spell for the house. _Why did Willow need burba weed for a protection spell? Isn't it usually used for locator spells? Anyway, it's here. And I always keep blood in the freezer, in case Angel comes over. And now Spike will be coming over too._

Buffy microwaved the blood to 98.6°F, the perfect temperature, with the burba weed. Then she stirred, took the leaves out, and walked carefully back into the room with the warmed blood in a mug. She returned to the living room to find Spike struggling to get up from the couch. He relaxed as soon as he saw her, realizing she hadn't left.

 **vvv**

 _If I had tried harder, I would have heard her heartbeat in the kitchen. But no, I just assumed she had left. She shouldn't_ _have stayed. Why did she? And how did she get burba weed?_

Spike reached for the blood, then stopped, not wanting to bleed on the couch more than he already had. Well, he was guessing that was his blood. He didn't have any bleeding wounds, to his knowledge. _Didn't Angel pull a knife on me when I said I'd be coming?_ "Best bandage me up first, pet. Wouldn't want to bleed on your couch more than I already have."

"What did this to you?"

"Wasn't a 'what' so much as a 'who'."

"Alright then, who?"

 _Angel. But she won't believe me._ "Have a few guesses, but I don't rightly know, pet."

"Angel." It wasn't a question.

"How'd you guess?"

"Because you didn't think that I'd believe you, but you took the time to change 'what' to 'who'. Of course I believe you. Angel hates you! But how did it happen?"

 _Look at that! She cares!_ Spike knew he was being cynical, but honestly, he couldn't help it. Buffy never cared. _Except that one week where my chip misfired. She cared then. And apparently she loves me, but I know that's a lie. She never loved me._ "I told him I was coming to see you, he told me no, and the fight ensued. You should see the other guy."

 **vvv**

 _Of course I believe him! Why wouldn't I? And I don't want to see Angel ever again._ "Do I have to?"

"Course not, luv."

"Good. Let's get you patched up. Your blood's getting cold."


End file.
